The Boy Next Door
by OstrasizedPotato
Summary: Lily's having a horrid day. She thinks it can't possibly get any worse when...big surprise...it does. Turns out James Potter is moving next door. Great. Just GREAT. Except...something's a bit off, and Potter seems different. Lily's POV.
1. Chapter 1

_The Boy Next Door—Chapter One_

I knew today was going to be a bad day. I just knew it. I could _feel_ the essence of a bad day singling me out from the very moment I tumbled out of my bed, only to step on a long and, might I add, _sharp_, quill.

"_What the bloody hell_—" Crying out in agony and clutching my throbbing foot, I managed to get my other foot ensnared in the too-long end of my pajama bottoms. I tripped wildly, barely missing cracking my head on my door. '_Okay,_' I had thought, '_I'll just sit here and collect myself. Nothing bad can happen when I'm not even _moving.'

_Wham!_

Oh how very wrong I had been. The inward-opening door connected with my forehead, and with a yelp I jumped up and backwards, only just missing the same quill that had been the start of all this trouble. 

Petunia, my sister, had rolled her eyes, and quickly let go of the metal doorknob, as if it had burned her. There were many words to describe Petunia—most of them synonymous with 'bad' and 'evil.' She glanced distastefully around my room, gave a sniff, and said, "Mum wanted me to tell you breakfast is ready." She then turned on her heel and vanished quickly around the corner of the doorframe.

I had decided not to risk another tripping-over-pant-leg fiasco. I pulled on a pair of denim shorts (Hopefully I wouldn't find a way to trip over shorts!) and a striped black and white collared shirt. Not many colors match my colorful hair (It's bright red, like extremely vibrant bits of copper wire), but black and white seemed to match okay. I then cautiously went on my way down to breakfast. Unfortunately for me, my bedroom was on the second floor of my house.

"A flight of stairs, an extremely unlucky day. This should be fun," I had murmured to myself. I gripped the thin banister of the staircase firmly, and proceeded slowly and carefully down it. First step—No fall. Second step—I'm still upright. Third step—This is going fine. I reached the bottom of the stairs without falling, tripping, or rolling down them. "Not bad," I had said, glancing back over my shoulder. I took a step forward, still looking back, and promptly tripped over a corner of the carpet, which was flipped up.

I had squeezed my eyes shut for a few seconds, then, remembering what happened last time I stayed too long on the floor, I got up and dusted myself off.

"Fabulous. Countless injuries and I haven't even had breakfast."

Said meal was a sloppy affair, what with spilling oatmeal, dropping utensils, and knocking over my milk. By the time my stomach was full I had to go change—I didn't fancy going around the house with oatmeal dripped down my front.

And now here I was, late afternoon, relishing the fact that my day was almost over. The sun perched on the horizon, casting mysterious shadows while still providing enough light. I was resting on a comfortable couch in my living room, half-reading a book. My eyes were skimming the words, but my brain didn't seem to want to absorb the meaning. My mind was caressed by the gentle sigh of the wind through the open window, and the background noise of cars slowly riding by. My eyelids drifted downwards as these gentle sounds lulled me into a light doze.

_Bam._

A car door slammed nearby, and my eyes snapped open as I sat up straighter. My book tumbled to the ground, and I lost the page that I was on. I was more interested in the car outside, however. People were gingerly untwisting themselves from their seatbelts and exiting the vehicle. I stood up to get a better look. Behind the car there was a big van—a moving van.

My mum entered the living room and started to straighten the pillows I had left disorganized on the couch and floor. She glanced at what I was scrutinizing and said airily, "Oh, those must be the new neighbors. I didn't know they were moving in so soon."

I glanced at her quizzically. "New neighbors, Mum?"

"Yes, I only found out recently that they were moving in. They're something like the Porters, or—"

I turned my head and squinted at one of the newcomers. I caught a glimpse of ruffled, black hair and there was a flash from the slowly dying sun off a pair of glasses. My eyes widened. No. Surely not. But… The person turned, and I caught a better sight of them. A grin graced the young man's features—a grin that looked _very _familiar. It couldn't be. And yet… It sure looked like…

"_Potter_?" I gasped.

"Oh yes, Potter, that's it, Lily! The Potters are our new neighbors."

I felt rather dizzy and sick at the same time. _The Potters are our new neighbors. The Potters are our new neighbors. _The unimaginable thought my mother had uttered echoed around in my head.

"But how did you know that, Lily? You don't know them—?"

I could hear my mother speaking, but I had no idea of what the words were. _The Potters are our new neighbors. The Potters are our new neighbors. The _Potters _are our new neighbors._

Hah! I had thought my bad day was over? It was just beginning.

* * *

_The mid-morning of the next day…_

"Lily…Lily."

My eyes fluttered open. "Hmm?" I said sleepily.

My mum looked down on me, a slight crease between her two jade eyes. "Are you sure you don't feel well enough to come with us to welcome the neighbors?"

"What? I—Oh!" I hastily worked up a cough. "I'm feeling pretty sickly, sorry Mum."

"Okay sweetie…" She said regretfully. "When you feel better, then?"

"Most assuredly." I could figure out a way out of that when the time came.

As my mum left, I could hear her muttering to my dad, "…she's been like this since yesterday afternoon and she never gets sick. It came on so suddenly…"

"She'll be fine, Madeline." I grinned as I heard my dad's deep, slightly exasperated, calming voice. "Relax. Let's go say 'hi' to the neighbors."

I waited until I heard the slam of the front door before jumping out of bed and stretching. Meeting the Potters should preoccupy my family for a while, and until they got back, I had the house to myself.

I sauntered over toward the kitchen—pretending to be sick sure makes you work up an appetite! I grabbed a spoon from one of the drawers, then opened the fridge and pulled out some peanut butter. Once I had a nice, overflowing pile of peanut butter on the spoon, I walked toward the family room to watch some television.

On my way past the front door of my house, however, I heard rustlings on the porch. My brows furrowed, I stuck the peanut butter spoon into my mouth, and opened the door. Crouched in front of my doorstep, a basket of brownies clutched in both hands, was James Potter. Um, _shit?_

"Oh, hello," He said getting to his feet, tugging down his shirt, and running a hand through his mussed hair. "Your mum mentioned you weren't feeling well, and _my_ mum thought what better to make you feel better than some brownies? So I was just, um, putting these brownies here for you." As he glanced up for the first time after finishing his speech, my heart sank. I had been trying to figure out a way to make a polite escape without him seeing my face, but now it seemed to late. He'd surely recognize me now! My fears were confirmed when his eyes bulged and his mouth dropped. "_Evans?_" He squeaked.

I pulled the huge spoon of peanut butter out of my mouth and ran my tongue across my teeth, trying to rid them of the sticky substance. "Hey there, Potter."

* * *

The end!

Yeah, so before I was taking forever to update and everything so I took a break from writing this story. Now I figure I'll repost it and be determined to update regularly. What's a good amount of time between chapters—like, a week? I'll try…

Well, review please! Tell me what you think… And please, feel free to point out the tiniest mistake to me; I'll appreciate it _so _much!


	2. Chapter 2

_The Boy Next Door—Chapter Two_

Potter and I stared at each other for approximately two seconds—two _long _seconds—then I forced a smile and shut the door in his face. Oops. Was that rude? Well, it was Potter. I'm _sure_ he'd get over it.

With a sigh I returned to the kitchen and rinsed off the spoon formerly sporting peanut butter—I didn't have much of an appetite anymore. '_Potter knows I'm here,_' I thought despairingly. Then I grinned. I made it sound like he was some murderer out to get me! It wasn't _that _bad…I hoped. But still… I had hoped to lead a nice, peaceful rest of the summer. Now I had Potter (and most likely one or more of his friends) to deal with. I sighed again and plopped down into a chair, my face in my hands. Oh, _joy_.

* * *

"_Lily Evans_!" Uh oh. When my mum used that tone, it meant _trouble_. What had I done?

"Erm… Yes, Mummy?" I said meekly, still racking my brain for the offense I was supposed to have committed.

"Lily Evans, whatis this I hear about you shutting the door on a charming young gentleman by the name of James Potter?"

Oh. _That. _I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Mum, if you only knew—"

"Lily." Her voice cracked like a whip. "I want you to go over to the Potter residence and apologize to James."

"What—? Mum!"

"And don't even try any 'buts', Lily, you know how I am when it comes to politeness!" Ugh. Mum's policy for good manners was strict, and the punishments if you ignored common courtesies were harsh.

About half a minute later I was out the front door and on the sidewalk in front of my house. I glanced hopefully back at my house, but I could see my mum peeping through the curtains. '_Damnit,_' I thought. '_She's actually checking to make sure I go._' I sighed.

No traffic was coming—good. I ran across the street and slowly, warily approached the front door of James Potter. With any luck he'd be out, and I wouldn't have to face him.

Fate was not on my side. Potter himself opened the door. He seemed more composed than he had at our last meeting.

"Oh—Evans."

I inclined my head. "Potter." There was a short pause and then—

"Er—Why are you here?"

A light flush stealthily sneaked up my neck and cheeks. "Erm… Yeah. My mom sent me over here to apologize. For, um, the door incident…"

There was another pause, and then Potter gave a playful grin. "Well?"

I glared at him. "I apologize. But let it be known that it was by force!"

He grinned lazily, choosing to ignore my latter comment. "There now, Evans, that wasn't so horrible now, was it?"

"Oh," I shuddered, "If you only knew!" His grin widened infuriatingly. I reluctantly let a little smile slip. "Hey—now that I think of it… How _did _my mum know I shut the door on you?"

"Er—" A crease formed between his hazel orbs. "Well I—I didn't mean for her exactly to find out… But, well, it just kind of… slipped out?"

"You _tattled_ on me?" My mouth fell open in exasperation. "_Geez_, Potter, just when I thought you were starting to—"

"To what?" He pried, eyes searching.

"_Nothing. _Just—just leave me alone Potter."

"But Evans! I didn't mean to…" His voice trailed off as I turned my back to him.

My frown only deepened as I distantly heard, "Bad luck, mate…" His _friends _had been listening in to our conversation as well? I gave an impatient sigh and quickly crossed the street back to my house.

My mother looked me up and down as I entered our house. "Well, Lily?"

"I apologized Mum. It was _lovely,_" I could barely keep a sharp, biting sense of sarcasm out of my words. "I'm going to my room."

I started up the stairs, consumed with my own vengeful thoughts on Potter. Who honestly tattletales at seventeen years old? I reached the second to last step, and my toe caught the edge. I tripped flat on my face. '_Lovely,_' I voiced again.

* * *

Two days later, I hadn't seen Potter at all, and my anger had started to ebb. I had gotten over his snitching. That was how I was—My temper was quick to rise, but I didn't hold a grudge for an incredibly long time. Unless it was something major.

I was stretched out over a couch in the living room, reluctantly working on my summer homework. Term was just weeks away, and with all the work the teachers had piled up on the former sixth years, I didn't want to end up rushing it all in on the last day of summer.

_Ding dong._

Just because I was working on my homework early didn't mean I was opposed to a break. As the doorbell rang I rose gratefully from my sunken in spot on the couch.

"Who is it?" I called, pulling open the door. _Ugh_. Who else? Potter.

"Hi, Evans."

"Hello, Potter," I replied warily.

"Um, okay, Evans, the thing is… You know quidditch, right?"

I rolled my eyes. "Of _course_, Potter, it's only the obsession of every single guy in the whole wizarding world."

"Right." He looked bemused. "Well, you see I was playing a game, with my dad, and my friends. And my mom. And the teams are uneven. So, since everyone else around here would faint at the sight of someone flying on a broom, we were wondering if you might be interested in playing…"

"So basically you asked me because I was the only one you could?"

James warily looked at me. "C'mon Evans, don't go picking a fight with me. Do you want to play or not?"

I became miffed for a moment, but then I slowly shrugged my right shoulder. I would come to regret this. "Uh—sure. I'll play."

James grinned. Er—_Potter_ grinned.

* * *

There we go for chapter two.

Tell me what you thought! Reviews are greatly appreciated…

Also, please point out even the smallest typo to me. I'm a bit of a perfectionist, and I'd be happy to know where the mistakes were so that I could correct them.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Previously:**__ "You know quidditch, right?"_ _I rolled my eyes. "Of _course_, Potter, it's only the obsession of every single guy in the whole wizarding world."_

"_Right." He looked bemused. "Well, you see I was playing a game, with my dad, and my friends. And my mom. And the teams are uneven. So, since everyone else around here would faint at the sight of someone flying on a broom, we were wondering if you might be interested in playing…"_

_I slowly shrugged my right shoulder. I would come to regret this. "Uh—sure. I'll play."_

_The Boy Next Door—Chapter Three_

My feet scuffed the ground as I slowly followed Potter across the street to his house. I could still get away. If I turned around now, and bolted, there was still hope for me. '_Ugh, come on, Lily,_' I told myself, '_You're the one that got yourself into this. You could've made up some lame excuse. You're afraid of heights. You had a bad incident with a broomstick._' The pitiful explanations reverberated around in my head. I should have just said no. Just one word. Two, if I wanted to be polite. No, thanks. And then I wouldn't be in this _horrible _predicament.

We reached the door of Potter's house, and he pushed the door open, giving me a shifty grin as he crossed the threshold. I forced a smile, and then trailed him through the maze of his house, out into his backyard.

My mouth dropped. I had been in this backyard once before, when I had been doing chores, for the former owner of the home, to earn some extra money. There had been a wide expanse of grass, with colorful bushes and vivid flowers outlining the perimeter of the backyard when I was last there. Now, however, in addition to the grass, bushes, and flowers, there were high gold poles, stretching to the heavens.

"You have your own _quidditch pitch?_" I barely managed to gasp out. Potter smiled at my amazement. I eyed the low walls surrounding the backyard. "But how come I couldn't see from outside? How do the neighbors not see—?" I left the question hanging as my eyes glued back onto the golden poles.

"Ever wonder why muggles don't seem to see The Leaky Cauldron?" Potter asked. "It's a spell, obviously. Well, my dad cast the same sort of spell on our backyard. It means that nobody can see into our yard from outside these walls, and that even if muggles were to come into our backyard, they wouldn't be able to see the poles." I nodded, still awestruck, then followed Potter over to where the rest of the people planning on playing quidditch were lounging about.

The tall man and woman standing next to each other could only be Potter's parents. I extended my hand. "Mr. and Mrs. Potter? I'm Lily Evans, from across the street."

"Pleasure, Lily." Mrs. Potter gripped my hand firmly. I caught a glimpse of scarlet nails and an elegant ring. Her brunette hair was just beginning to grey, and was pulled up into a casual bun. Her eyes were toffee shade slightly darker than her sons, and she had pert, naturally red lips. I couldn't really imagine this chic woman playing quidditch, but I kept my thoughts to myself and instead smiled sweetly as I shook her hand.

Mr. Potter seemed to be an energetic man—he gave my hand a vigorous shake and grinned. '_He has the exact same grin as Potter,_' I caught myself noting. That wasn't the only similarity between father and son—Mr. Potter's black hair was just as messy as Potter's, and their noses were uncannily alike.

I turned to the last two members of the party: Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. I knew them both from school. Black smirked at me and gave a little wave, flipping his dark locks out of his darker eyes. Pettigrew gave a nervous smile.

"Hi," I greeted them casually, slightly wary. We weren't the best of friends. Potter, Black, Pettigrew, and another boy named Remus Lupin made up a self-named group called the Marauders, infamous for hexing anyone and everyone who annoyed them (even accidentally) the smallest bit. In the past years I had found the whole group's arrogance deplorable, and there had been many shouting matches between us on the subject of morality while at school. Hopefully while in the company of adults they would be able to act a little more civilized, though. I glanced back at Potter. "Where's the last member of your little group?"

He looked confused. "Remus? He—uh—"

Sirius cut in. "Moony wasn't feeling well," he supplied breezily. I nodded slowly, and there was a moment of awkward silence until Mrs. Potter broke it.

"Well, enough chitchat! Lily, do you have a broom of your own?"

I blushed considerably. I had completely forgotten about not having a broom. "Oh—I actually don't have one." My face reddened in shame. How could I have agreed to play when I didn't even have a broomstick?

Mrs. Potter must have seen my flush because she interjected quickly. "Don't worry about it, hunny, we have extras!" She gave a winning smile, flicked her wand (Which appeared to have been in a pocket of her jade witches robes), and a broom fluttered toward me. She glanced at Pettigrew. "You too, Peter?" He bobbed his head ardently and another broom flew towards the group.

After the broomstick situation was resolved, we quickly formed teams. I ended up being with Potter and his dad, facing Mrs. Potter, Black, and Pettigrew. Following the establishing of the teams, there was a discussion in which the men and Mrs. Potter used a lot of foreign quidditch words that I had no idea of the meaning of.

"Right then." Mr. Potter ushered the younger Potter and me away from the opposition, and we formed a huddle. "So we've agreed to have one chaser, one seeker, and one beater."

Potter broke in. "We decided against a keeper because they wouldn't get to fly as much—this way the game's more action-packed."

"Exactly." Mr. Potter carried on. "Now, I rather fancy playing seeker. And James here plays chaser—so Lily, would you mind playing beater?"

"Er—no problem."

"We could switch up the positions if your prefer, but—"

"No, no, that's okay," I said hurriedly. Beater was less important than chaser or seeker, point-wise—That was fine with me. I didn't have to worry about scoring points; all I had to do was hit bludgers at people. Sounded good.

The six of us kicked off into the air, after having released the snitch, two bludgers, and a quaffle. I smiled as the wind whipped my hair—I may not have been the best flier, but I still enjoyed doing it. Flying gave me a distinctive rush that only it seemed to be able to create. Snapping back to the game, I gripped my beater's bat tightly and looked around for any bludgers that appeared hittable. _Aha! _There was one! I locked it into my sights, streaked after the dark, round ball, took aim, and _swung._

_Wham!_ There was a thud, and Sirius Black dropped the quaffle he was holding. He turned towards me, blinking and bemused, the senses knocked out of him. I grinned cheekily and waved. This beater job wasn't half bad!

I didn't notice much of the rest of the game—I was enjoying pelting bludgers at the opposing team. '_Maybe a bit too much,_' I thought, as Pettigrew rolled over in midair, looking wildly around for where that bloody bludger had come from.

Indeed, the time passed so quickly I was shocked when I noticed everyone else was touching down on the grass. I followed suit, and caught a glimpse of Mr. Potter and Potter wearing identical smirks—Mr. Potter had the snitch clutched in his hand.

We all traded "good jobs" and "good games", and then I announced that I should probably be getting home. As I turned away with a wave, I distinctly heard Black mutter to the rest of his peers, "_Damn, _who here knew Evans had an arm?"

I flipped my hair and kept walking, a slight bounce in my step.

* * *

Yay. So, chapter three. Playing Quidditch—sort of unlikely. But oh well. Haha, so I was rereading this story and I realized I don't like it very much. I mean, it's not horrible, but it's not one of those "Wow!" stories. But that's okay. I'll probably rewrite it (yet again), but I've decided to first get the plotline down. And once that is done, I'll be older and hopefully my writing skill will increase.

Thanks for all the reviews I've gotten so far!! They really mean a lot.

Please review ) It's really encouraging, and feedback is the BEST. And, as always, it would be great if you could point out even the smallest mistake.


	4. Chapter 4

_The Boy Next Door—Chapter Four_

My eyes opened slowly as the soft beeping of my alarm clock drifted into my senses. I rolled over and looked at the clock blearily—It was 8 in the morning: early for me on a summer day. While I was at school I usually got up early, but the break after school ended was my time to catch up on sleep.

My fingers fumbled for the button that shut the alarm off, and I gave a small groan as I unwillingly pulled my covers off and stumbled out of bed. I wouldn't have considered getting up before 10 during the summer, except that this morning was the day I began my summer job: I was working at an ice cream parlour.

I walked into my bathroom, rubbing my eyes, and stepped into the shower. The hot water did wonders to my senses, and when I finished washing I felt much more awake. I re-entered my bedroom, and pulled on some jeans and a light yellow shirt featuring one of my favourite bands—the Kinks. After brushing my hair, applying some light makeup, and slipping on a pair of shoes, I headed downstairs. No one else was up yet, so I left a note explaining where I had gone in case my mum or dad had forgotten that my job started today. I grabbed my keys and went out the door.

It took me a little under ten minutes to walk to the ice cream parlour. I shivered as I walked in the door—the bad side of working in an ice cream store? It was _cold._ I walked up to the counter and smiled nervously at the woman behind it. She was big, with short grey hair and a no-nonsense look about her.

"What can I get you?"

I almost burst out laughing. For all her intimidating looks, the woman's voice was high-pitched and slightly squeaky. "Er—nothing, thanks," I said, almost letting a small giggle escape. "I'm Lily Evans, I'm starting my job here today."

She looked me over, and gave a curt nod. "Right." She reached over and lifted the countertop up, so that I could get behind the counter. I walked in, and looked at all the bright flavours the parlour had to offer.

"Do you know where everything is?" She continued.

"Er—" I started.

She gave a noncommittal wave of her hand towards the ice cream. "Ice cream." Another vague motion towards the corner of the room. "Toppings." And one last ambiguous gesture. "Utensils and cones."

"Uh—thanks," I said.

"Yeah," she said. "Listen, I'm done for now. I have the early morning shift and night shift on Mondays, but I doubt you're going to be staying until I come back. Er—" She turned and squinted at a schedule taped the wall behind her. "Yeah, you're only working until one o'clock. Another worker will come in about an hour, when the business starts to pick up."

"Thanks," I started to say, but she had already pulled off her apron and was halfway to the door. It was only as she exited, with a tinkling of the little bell above the door, that I realized I hadn't even asked for her name.

Twenty minutes later, as I was seeing what Mint N' Chip and Cotton Candy ice cream tasted like together, no one had entered the store. It seemed as if no one wanted to get up early on a summer morning. Right as I thought this, however, a frazzled looking mother entered with her young-looking daughter clinging to her arm.

"Mummy, mummy, mummy, I need Cookies and Cream, mummy!" The small girl whined, looking at her mum with pleading eyes. '_Not like she needs any more sugar,_' I thought, but kept my opinion to myself.

"One Cookies and Cream?" I asked, smiling brightly.

"Oh—uh, yes," The mother stammered. I scooped up their order and kept the smile pasted to my face.

I told the woman her total, and she handed me some coins. "Thank you," I said politely, as she turned out the door and her daughter began hungrily eating her ice cream.

For the next hour, my day continued in a similar fashion to that that had just happened—various people entering, ordering, and exiting. My fellow worker arrived as more and more people started coming to the small shop, and I worked in a rather bored daze—While better than many jobs, my employment at the parlour was not that exciting—even downright dull at times.

'_Here's some excitement for you, Lily._' I thought, as with a jingle of the bell, two people entered: Potter and Black. '_Oh god_,' I thought. '_I take it back, I'm fine with my job being boring!_' Actually, now that I reflected on it, Potter hadn't been as infuriating as he usually was, but I was sure that the moment I let my guard down, he'd reveal his true colours.

I crossed my fingers behind my back and prayed that Potter and Black wouldn't come over, but fate wasn't on my side. The two of them, deep in conversation, didn't notice me standing behind the counter, but they got in the line that I was serving nonetheless. I swore quietly, and a young girl gave me a scandalized look.

"Er—sorry," I muttered, still thinking furiously of a way to escape. I glanced at the server next to me, a girl that looked a few years older than me. She had introduced herself to me when she first came in to work.

"Hey—hey Tiffany!" I whispered at her, hoping I had her name right. She looked up from dishing up a scoop of Black Cherry ice cream. "Can you take care of my customers while I go to the bathroom real quick?"

She glanced at the large clock behind her. "You only have 5 minutes until one o'clock, can't you wait until you're done with your shift?"

"Er—er, yeah I can," I mumbled with dejection as a man impatiently drummed his fingertips on the countertop. There was no way out. I was trapped. Potter and Black would find me, and now they would know where I would be for the next few weeks until school started up again. My eyes widened at the astonishing realization, and I braced myself for a fortnight of hell.

I doled out the man's order of Chocolate, and as he moved towards the doors to leave, I came face to face with Potter. There was a flicker of surprise on his face as he saw me, but it was almost immediately replaced with a different look: one of cheeriness.

"Hey, Evans!"

I gave him a tight-lipped smile. "Hi."

"Funny seeing you here, huh?"

"Yep, Potter. So what'd you want to order?"

"Oh, yeah…" He glanced at the flavours the parlour offered, apparently temporarily forgetting that you were supposed order something at an ice cream shop.

"I guess I'll have… Neapolitan, in a cone?"

"Mhm," I said, scooping it up. "And you, Black?"

"I'll have a good ol' vanilla," he said, smiling slightly.

I raised my eyebrows, dishing up the request. "Interesting. I had you down for a chocolate man."

He smirked at me as Potter dug around in his pocket for some money. "I'm amazed, is Lily Evans actually admitting she was wrong about something?"

"Oh, hah hah," I said, as Potter handed me some heavy coins. I glanced at them, then frowned, annoyed. "_Potter_," I hissed. "We're in a _muggle_ store. We don't accept knuts here!"

A faint rosy tint appeared around his neck and cheeks. "Sorry," he mumbled, digging in his pocket once more, this time for some muggle money. He looked so abashed at the mistake, I felt slightly sorry for him. Maybe I had been a little harsh.

"It's fine," I said, this time testing out a more accommodating tone of voice. I took the correct coins out of Potter's hand, my palm brushing against his fingertips. I blinked, and deposited the money in the cash register next to me.

I turned half way around, glancing at the clock behind me. It was one o'clock. I pulled off the apron I had been wearing and moved to exit the behind-the-counter station that I had manned for the last few hours when I noticed Potter looking at me.

"Er—my shift is over," I said, feeling the need to explain why I was ditching my ice-cream-needy customers. The instance the words left my lips, however, I realized it had been a bad move.

"Really?" Potter asked interestedly.

"Hey, why don't you show us around the town?" Black asked, nudging Potter. Wow, did he think I wouldn't notice that? "You know, James is pretty new here, so it'd be great if you'd take us to all the good stores, show us the sites."

I was fully prepared to say no. My mouth had actually opened to say the word, to insist that I had to get home because I was no doubt needed to do some chore or other, and I was very sorry because I would love to but I just didn't have the time, but then I thought about the quidditch game I had played with Potter. I remembered how much I had smiled while playing, and the fun it had been. I recalled the brownies he had kindly dropped off, and how delicious they had been, and as I thought about all this, the word about to pop out of my mouth changed midway through saying it.

"N—sure."

I mean, what was the worst that thing could happen while spending the day with Potter and Black?

* * *

Ahhh I'm very sorry this was out later than intended. I'm sorry.

Well, as always, please review, it's very encouraging, even if your review isn't 100 things you enjoyed about the story. And if you report the teensiest, tiniest mistakes you've spotted, I will appreciate you forever, because I'm kind of a mistake-perfectionist, as I mentioned a few chapters ago.


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